


Picnic Plans

by ShortInsomniac98



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has an Anxiety Disorder (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Picnics, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), St James's Park (Good Omens), Title from a Hozier Song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortInsomniac98/pseuds/ShortInsomniac98
Summary: After lockdown has ended, Crowley and Aziraphale go to the park. Aziraphale surprises him with a picnic, and asks him to move away with him to the South Downs.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 161





	Picnic Plans

**Author's Note:**

> tw panic attacks, ptsd

Crowley woke to the sound of his mobile’s alarm going off, and groggily, he reached over and batted it off his nightstand.

“Oh, bugger,” he said, slinking clumsily onto the floor with a quiet _thud_.

Hands had the habit of going all numb and tingly when the weight of your whole body was resting on them for extended periods of time, he reminded himself, and control over them was, of course, limited under those conditions. Major design flaw for a body that was meant to be asleep at least a third of its life.

He found his mobile a moment later and shut the alarm off, setting it back on the nightstand as he sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed. He should probably check the news, see what’s happened, how much worse it’s gotten. _Or how much better_ , he reminded himself. The humans could have got it all figured out by now. Or they could have made it so much worse. Same odds, really.

He cleared his throat and stood slowly, stumbling over to the glass door which led out to his balcony. Tentatively, he peeled back the edge of the curtain, half-expecting the world to be wrought up in flames, the streets full of bodies and shit and garbage, like some apocalyptic wasteland. Instead, he saw a group of children playing hopscotch in the play yard below his apartment block, people walking about on the sidewalk, and cars moving about in the streets below. The sun was shining, the trees were blooming pale summer flowers, and everything seemed… _okay_.

Brow furrowed, he looked up at the wall clock to his left, then wandered back over to the bed, sat down on the edge, and picked up his phone. Midafternoon, but on what day…

_19 July, 2020_

Interesting. So they did figure it out. He smiled.

“Wonder what Aziraphale’s up to,” he murmured.

He stood up again slowly and crossed through to his office. The plants, he saw on the way there, had fallen into a tragic state, but he couldn’t blame them for it. It was his job to care for them, and he’d neglected that duty for two whole months. After a bit of care (and a few minor miracles) he was sure they would be back to their usual pristine state, but that would have to wait. Now he had to call Aziraphale.

“Alright,” he said, sitting down on the throne with a sigh, and he reached for the phone and keyed in the number.

“Hello?” Aziraphale said after a few rings.

“Angel,” Crowley said.

“Crowley.” Crowley could practically hear the smile in his voice. “How was your nap?”

“Hardly felt like it happened,” Crowley said. “Closed my eyes and the next thing I knew, the alarm was going off.” He cleared his throat. “So, er…how have you been?”

“Just grand,” Aziraphale said. “Thank you for asking. I…well, I ended up having a lot of the baked goods delivered to NHS workers.”

“Really?” Crowley said, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the desk.

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said. “It was all much more than I needed, being one person and all…”

“I’m sure they were thankful to get a few of your cakes,” Crowley said. “Something good amidst the bad and all.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale intoned. “Right. Well, I hope so.”

“So what have I missed since we spoke last?”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair and found it not only to be a tangled and greasy mess, but also a few centimeters longer than it had been before. He made a face before snapping his fingers, willing it cleaned and styled, but keeping the length. He could make it work, and he liked having his hair longer anyhow.

“Oh, well, let’s see,” Aziraphale said. “We opened up about three weeks ago now. Late June, I think it was.”

“Oh, you should have woken me,” Crowley said, his tone casual.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” said Aziraphale. “I know you probably wanted to catch up on your sleep, and you deserved a bit of a break.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Crowley said, opening his desk drawer to look for his spare glasses. After finding them, he closed the drawer and sat up. “Er,” he hesitated.

“Yes?” Aziraphale said, quiet.

“You wouldn’t want to go somewhere, would you? Today?”

There was a slight pause, and Aziraphale sighed. Crowley felt a pang of worry. Maybe Aziraphale was upset with him for some reason.

“I think that would be wonderful,” Aziraphale said after a moment. “Where would you like to go?”

“You tell me,” Crowley said.

“I think the park would be nice,” Aziraphale said. “Just a walk, to catch up.”

Crowley smiled. “Alright. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“See you then, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, and the line disconnected.

Crowley put the phone back on the base and groaned, covering his face with both his hands. He couldn’t wait to see Aziraphale, obviously. He was excited for that, and to be going out and doing things again, but he wanted to kick himself for being such a fool and sleeping for so long. He’d overestimated his time, as had been for a long time quite a bad habit for him.

Not only that, he was kicking himself for not having told Aziraphale how he felt before this whole situation went down. He would have much preferred to have been hunkered down with the angel than by himself. Scrolling through Twitter and Tumblr and—Satan help him— _Facebook_ , he’d seen countless posts about people who were stuck at home with their partners and loved ones, and they were bloody miserable, but oh, what he would have given to be stuck inside with Aziraphale. It would have made it all much less miserable and boring just to have had him around. They wouldn’t have even had to talk, not really. Just knowing Aziraphale was around, sitting in some room or other reading or baking or humming softly to himself.

Crowley laid his head down on his arms on the desk. He’d tell him this afternoon. At the park. _Aziraphale, I’m in love with you. I have been for more than six thousand years. You don’t have to love me back (because how could you?) but I just needed to say it._

No. That was wrong. That was the doubt again. He knew how Aziraphale felt. That evening, back at the bookshop…

But they didn’t talk about it.

This afternoon, though, he would. He would tell him. _Aziraphale, I love you. I missed you….I’m sorry._

Sorry for what? For loving him? For telling him? For bothering him with his poorly expressed and hard-to-understand emotions? Pathetic.

Sorry for not telling him sooner? A little better, he supposed.

He tried to shrug it off, and he stood, putting his glasses on, and headed back to his room and into his walk-in closet to find something to wear.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, just as he promised, Crowley arrived at A.Z. Fell & Co., smiling as he got out and walked up to the door. Before he even knocked, Aziraphale stepped out, a large basket in his hands.

“What’s this?” Crowley asked, brow furrowed.

Aziraphale was beaming. “Remember how I said I’d like to go on a picnic one day?” he asked.

“You mean fifty years ago?” Crowley chuckled, taking the basket politely from him and going to stow it in the backseat.

“Well, yes, but what’s fifty years for people like us?” Aziraphale said. “I think a picnic would do us some good after all that’s happened.”

“Alright,” Crowley nodded. “I think you’re probably right.”

Aziraphale smiled again as Crowley held the passenger side door open for him. “Thank you,” he murmured.

They rode in relative silence all the way to St. James’s Park, speaking very little. Crowley’s driving, too, was much calmer than usual. He obeyed most of the rules of the road and only went about ten miles over the speed limit. Aziraphale was astonished, but pleasantly so, though he couldn’t help but wonder what could have been on Crowley’s mind. He unclasped his hands and set one tentatively on the seat between himself and Crowley, looking over at him through the sides of his eyes.

Crowley glanced over, eyes wide behind his glasses, and slowly and quietly, placed his hand in Aziraphale’s.

“Driving one-handed, erm,” he said softly.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sorry. You can—”

“No, I can manage,” Crowley said with a small smile.

“Okay,” Aziraphale said.

Once at the park, they walked along the paved walkway in the early evening light until they reached a clear patch of grass under a tree near the duck pond, which Aziraphale decided was just the right place. He laid out the blanket and invited Crowley to sit beside him, patting the blanket with his hand. Crowley obliged. His heart, which he normally had complete control over, was beating out of his chest.

“So,” he said slowly, watching as Aziraphale started to spread everything out on the blanket.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad to see you again,” Crowley said.

“And I you,” Aziraphale said, smiling at him. “Really. I mean it.”

“So do I,” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale handed him a glass and poured a deep red wine from a green bottle into it, the label of which Crowley didn’t see. Not that it mattered. He knew if Aziraphale chose it, it would be delightful.

“A toast?” Aziraphale said.

“Mm,” Crowley said, nodding to Aziraphale, passing the honor back to him.

“To the humans, for working it all out. Again,” he said. “They really are amazing. And…” He looked at Crowley, his expression softening. “…to us?”

Crowley’s eyes widened, but he said nothing, and instead clinked his glass against Aziraphale’s before draining it in two swallows.

Aziraphale pretended not to notice, and sipped his own wine.

“I missed this,” Crowley said once he’d calmed down some.

“So did I,” Aziraphale said.

“And…I missed you,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale nodded curtly. “The feeling is mutual, my dear, and actually I wanted to say—”

“I wanted to say—” Crowley started to say at the same time.

Aziraphale laughed. “Alright, you first then.”

“No, you,” Crowley deferred.

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, and opened the basket again, starting to rummage around as he spoke. “I was online the other day. Well, I was talking with someone the other day online. Well, they were online. I was—”

“Angel,” Crowley said, giving him an amused look.

Aziraphale looked over at him and laughed. “Sorry. Let me just get to the point,” he said, retrieving a pamphlet and handing it to Crowley. “I’ve been looking at a few places.”

There was very little writing on the pamphlet. Just an address, a house name, and a few brief descriptions of features of the home.

“The South Downs,” Crowley said softly. “What, are you going on holiday?”

“Not exactly,” Aziraphale said.

“Moving? A relocation? I thought—”

“No, it’s not…that. It’s not work,” Aziraphale said. “Crowley, I wanted to ask you how you would feel about…well, about moving with me. To the countryside.”

“Oh,” Crowley said. He let out a shaky breath as he flipped through the glossy color-photo pamphlet, unable to focus very much on anything about it.

“Of course, I can give you time if you want to think about it,” Aziraphale said. “And I completely understand if you don’t want to. I know you’re quite comfortable in your flat, but I think I’d much prefer a quieter life for a while. It’s been so long since I got any peace and quiet. Living in Soho, well, it isn’t the quietest life, even in my circumstances.”

“Angel,” Crowley said softly, shaking his head.

Aziraphale frowned. “I can always come back to visit you,” he said softly.

“No,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale stopped breathing, and stared at him blankly.

“No, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Crowley said.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, relieved, a smile spreading across his face. “I wasn’t expecting such a…a quick response,” he laughed, and Crowley saw tears in his eyes, threatening to overflow. “I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me.”

“Me, too,” Crowley said.

He looked down at the pamphlet again, closing it to look at the front page, which featured the exterior of the house, a lovely little stone cottage complete with a small garden wall covered in green leaves and purple flowers. He smiled. It looked like Heaven. Well…someone’s Heaven. Not the one he knew, but maybe one he could make his own, with Aziraphale by his side.

“What were you wanting to tell me, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“Huh? Oh,” he said, blinking as he lowered the pamphlet. He could just say it. It wouldn’t be hard, not now. But why was he hesitating? _Oh, just say it, you—_ “I love you,” he said, interrupting his own negative thoughts.

Aziraphale lowered his glass, which he had just been about to take another sip from.

“I always have,” Crowley went on. “God, this sounds so bloody _stupid_. I’m sounding like a cliché and I’m sorry. But I’ve loved you since I met you there up on that God-forsaken wall and you told me you gave away your sword. I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

“I knew,” Aziraphale said.

“You knew?” he asked.

“Of course I knew,” Aziraphale said, and took that sip of wine. “How could I not?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed,” Crowley chuckled, picking up his own glass.

“Why?” Aziraphale asked.

“Because I feel like an idiot.”

“You aren’t, though,” Aziraphale said. “You’re much smarter than I am.”

“Am not,” Crowley said. “You’re just saying that.”

“You don’t get caught up in so much trouble all the time. You don’t need me to save you every century because you’re about to get yourself killed. Er, _discorporated_ ,” he said.

“I thought that was—”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Right, well, yes, but let me finish please.” He looked away briefly, then went on: “You think so much faster than I do, and you played your bosses so much more successfully than I ever did,” Aziraphale said. “You’re the smart one. And I think that’s why I love you, too.”

“What?” Crowley said, his voice barely a breath of a whisper.

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale said.

“You never said,” Crowley said.

“To be fair, neither did you,” said Aziraphale. “And I suppose I always assumed it was a known thing between us.”

Crowley nodded.

“And for a long time, of course, we couldn’t just say it, or show it,” Aziraphale said. “Our bosses, and the times, you know. But…it has been a couple years now,” he sighed, “so I suppose it could have been said at some point.”

“Old habits and all,” Crowley said.

“Old fears, more like,” Aziraphale said. “I still worry sometimes that they’ll come back.” There was a look in his eyes, genuine fear, sadness, and something else. Then it was gone, as quick as it had appeared, and he smiled again, a sadder smile this time. “But they haven’t. They haven’t looked in, haven’t sent anyone, haven’t even honed in on my location in months. I assume your crowd is also…”

“Completely indifferent to my situation,” Crowley finished for him.

“So we could…”

“We could leave,” Crowley said. “We can leave London, as nice as it is, go far enough away they can’t find us, but still close enough to check in on all our old stomping grounds any time we please.”

“Precisely. And I think this place,” he said, taking the pamphlet from Crowley and holding it between them so they could both see the picture, “would be a wonderful place to go to get away from it all.”

“It would be nice to get some peace and quiet,” Crowley agreed.

“It’s settled then,” Aziraphale smiled. “We can call the agent as soon as you’re ready, let him know we’d like to have a visit, tour the house. Before we make any big decisions.”

“Wonderful,” Crowley said, returning his smile.

It was then that a great booming came from the sky, and beyond the trees, Crowley swore he could almost see where the lightning bolt touched down. His heart stopped. Everything stopped. He couldn’t breathe, forgot he didn’t need to, and started gasping for breath.

“It’s just bad weather, dear,” Aziraphale said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I…” Crowley said, panting. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Dear,” Aziraphale said, looking at him directly, scared. “What can I do? What do you need?”

“I can’t do it again,” he said, his expression pained, tears flowing down his cheeks from behind his glasses.

All around them, it was starting to rain, and people were running to the exits or under covered seating areas.

“I’m here. Don’t worry,” Aziraphale said. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Let’s just get back to the car now, hm?”

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut, his hand holding tightly around Aziraphale’s like a vice.

“Okay,” Aziraphale said, running his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand. “You’re okay.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers, packing everything neatly back into the basket in an instant, and a second time, putting them back into the car. Rain pounded on the roof, and Crowley whimpered, burying his face in Aziraphale’s chest as he clung to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice weak and muffled against the angel’s jacket.

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale said, stroking Crowley’s hair as he held him close. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said again. “I didn’t know.”

“What didn’t you know?” Aziraphale said, his voice low and soothing as he rocked slowly. He remembered that had comforted Warlock when he was afraid, but he had no idea if it would calm down a frightened demon.

“I thought,” he said, swallowing hard, “I thought it was…but it isn’t. I’m sorry I did this.”

“No,” Aziraphale whispered. “You’re perfectly fine.”

“Ruined your picnic,” he said.

“I don’t mind,” Aziraphale said. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Crowley’s breathing gradually slowed, and his crying dissipated some. He sniffled and slowly pulled away from Aziraphale again, staring straight ahead for quite some time. Aziraphale sighed. His suit was quite wrinkled and tearstained, but he didn’t fix it, no matter how much he wanted to. He just sat there in the still silence with Crowley, waiting for the storm to pass, so to speak, in more ways than one.

“I,” Crowley said after a long while, long after the rain had passed and the sky had cleared and people had begun to wander back into the park, “I get scared sometimes.” He looked at Aziraphale. “I can’t help it. I’ve tried to forget…what happened, and remind myself that it’s not going to happen again.” He looked at Aziraphale, eyes still hidden behind his glasses. “But I get so scared,” he whispered. “Of lightning. Of certain low lightings. Of thunder. Large fires. Smoke. High heat. I could go on, but I won’t. You get the point.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m sorry that you had to see this, especially after today and what we discussed. You probably want to change your mind now, and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I could never change my mind about you, dear,” Aziraphale said. “What I feel for you hasn’t gone away over the last several millennia and I doubt it ever will. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing this happened now rather than later,” Crowley said. “You know what you’re going to have to put up with.”

“Put up with?”

Crowley nodded.

“Crowley, you’re not something I have to put up with. You’re someone I love, unconditionally, who I want to help in any way I can.”

Crowley nodded again. “Okay,” he said softly, offering him a small smile. “Thank you, angel.”

“What do you say we move this picnic into the bookshop?” Aziraphale asked, smiling back and stroking Crowley’s cheek gently.

“Alright.”

“Do you need me to drive?” Aziraphale offered.

“Nope,” Crowley said, bolting upright again, suddenly somewhat closer to his usual self once more. He wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands and turned the key in the ignition.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Alright, then. Suit yourself.”

Crowley cut a small smile in his direction before throwing the car into reverse and taking them out of the car park.


End file.
